Howl of the Wolf (Heirs to the Throne Book 1) by Diane Rapp Page A

while I wait for the doctor.”  He followed her back into the lab and swung the tank into position.  His plan might work. 
    Donovan asked, “How’re they doing?  Will it be much longer?”
    “Transfer’s complete.  We’ll move the patient to recovery soon.”  She smiled coyly.  “I’m off duty at 1730…”
    “Sorry.  I’m slated for duty for the next full shift.”  Donovan shrugged and the girl sighed.  Attaching hoses to the oxygen tank, she cast a sideways glance at Donovan.  He waved good-bye and stared into the recovery room. 
    Located on the outer rim of the space station, the lab, recovery room, and hallway completed a wedge-shaped section designed as a self-contained emergency pod.
    Approaching the doctor, Donovan mumbled, “I’ve got a plan but we need an emergency.” Alex glanced up as Donovan pointed to the emergency instructions printed next to the entrance.  He whispered, “Can you make any of this equipment blow?”
    Alex looked at the equipment critically.  “Yes, I see.  Give me a moment to clear the room.”  His fingers moved rapidly over the keyboard and warning bells clanged.  Techs froze and stared.  Alex announced, “Equipment failure, you know the drill!  Evacuate!  Move the patient into the recovery chamber and get out.  Move!”
    Two techs maneuvered the container holding Krystal into the recovery cubical while Alex manipulated dials and lights under the bewildered gaze of departing techs.
    Alex said, “Computer, equipment malfunction in medlab six.  Request emergency status.”
    “Identity, please,” the voice responded.
    “Dr. Alexander, 977.  Equipment failure is imminent.  I will stay with the patient and one staff member.” 
    “Code blue confirmed.  Section sealed.”  The overhead lights flashed blue.  Alex flipped the manual communication switch off.  Donovan opened the storage cell and secured two space suits.  Handing one to Alex, he asked, “How long?”
    “Ten minutes.  I’ll execute an overload and we’ll have five minutes until the explosion sends us into orbit.”  Alex squirmed into the space suit.  “After the explosion, we’ll have a supply of fresh oxygen in our suits, but Krystal only has thirty-minute’s air supply.  Can we get to the Zebulon in that time?”
    Donovan labored to pull the suit over his large body frame.  “I’ll tell Trenton the schedule.”  He toggled his comline.  “Donovan calling Zebulon.”    
    “Awaiting orders, Captain.”  Trenton’s voice sounded cheerful—always cheerful during an adventure.  
    “Cargo expected on the quarter-deck.  Three crates marked 15-0-60 Zebulon.  Do you copy?”   
    “Logged in and ready to receive,” Trenton replied.  “Other cargo is stowed.”                      
    “Priority on loading schedule.  New cargo is perishable and can support a delay of thirty minutes max.  Do you copy?”
    “Orders logged.”
    Donovan shook his head.  “I’ll be soothing Trenton’s feelings for at least three shifts for questioning his abilities.”
    “He’ll understand.”  Alex fingered the self-sealing closures on his suit.  “Trenton enjoys theatrics, so don’t fret.” 
    Donovan followed the doctor into the recovery cell to check on their patient.
    Shrouded in a hazy mist, Krystal looked like a young princess sleeping in a glass coffin, her delicate features soft and smooth, like polished marble.  His chest tightened.  Why complicate my life with a boyish crush?  It will be torture working by her side unable to stroke that petal-soft skin, but losing her would be far worse.
    Alex glanced up, his eyes wide with surprise. 
    Donovan huffed, “Damn it!  Stop reading my mind.  She’s pretty, so don’t give me your know-it-all attitude.”  Donovan stomped out of the cell, fighting the ache spreading through his chest by forcing his mind to think about something else. 
    Alex turned to the keyboard.  “No turning